As for poor Synthesis, he really has fallen so low in these days, that
one cannot but pity him. He now goes about humbly after his brother,
feeding on any scraps that are thrown to him, and is snubbed and rapped
over the knuckles, and told one minute to hold his tongue and mind his
own business, and the next that he has no business at all to mind, till
he has got into such a poor way that some folks fancy he will die, and
are actually digging his grave already, and composing his epitaph. But
they are trying to wear the bear's skin before the bear is killed; for
Synthesis is not dead, nor anything like it; and he will rise up again
some day, to make good friends with his brother Analysis, and by his help
do nobler and more beautiful work than he has ever yet done in the world.
So now Analysis has got the upper hand; so much so that he is in danger
of being spoilt by too much prosperity, as his brother was before him; in
which case he too will have his fall; and a great deal of good it will do
him. And that is the end of my story, and a true story it is.
Now you must remember, whenever you have to do with him, that Analysis,
like fire, is a very good servant, but a very bad master. For, having
got his freedom only of late years or so, he is, like young men when they
come suddenly to be their own masters, apt to be conceited, and to fancy
that he knows everything, when really he knows nothing, and can never
know anything, but only knows about things, which is a very different
matter.
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